Renovations and Repairs
by Mara Greengrass
Summary: After the events of X2, Scott deals with some damage. (Based on the movie novelization)


TITLE: Renovations and Repairs  
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass  
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.  
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.  
CATEGORY: Gen, S/J(ish)  
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G  
SUMMARY: After the events of X2, Scott deals with some damage.  
DISCLAIMER: The X-Men and the X-Men movieverse belong to Marvel and   
Twentieth-Century Fox and other entities with expensive lawyers.  
NOTES: This fic contains some general spoilers for the sequel (based on the novelization), but not many specifics. Thanks to Naomi and Min for suggesting that I post now, instead of waiting :)  
  
* * * * *  
  
For Scott, the worst part was finding new damage. Just when he thought he'd accustomed himself to the havoc wreaked on his home of so many years--his castle, if you will--he found something new.  
  
On this particular Friday afternoon, it was a bullet hole in the wall of Jean's office. Not her lab downstairs, but her administrative office, with the skull perched on the desk grinning, the biology textbooks piled neatly on a shelf, and the Matisse reproduction from the Met she'd hung slightly crooked. The hole was an inch above the window behind her desk, and when he turned to gauge where it had come from, he had a sudden vision of a bullet striking Jean, a Jean who'd stayed behind at the mansion instead of Logan.  
  
It felt as if his heart had stopped beating for a moment, as he relived the might-have-beens of the invasion of the school. A fist clutched at his chest, squeezing ever tighter as he raged at the plan that had lured him away from his charges at such a crucial moment. The world grayed and Scott fought for control, fought back the fear.  
  
Then, as it had each time, the fist released him and he resisted the urge to gasp for breath. Tightening his shields and hoping Jean hadn't sensed anything, he picked up the book he'd come to retrieve and made a mental note to fix the bullet hole. Soon.  
  
He strode out of the room, placing each foot with deliberate care to distract himself. Absently, he noted that the hallways looked practically normal. The Professor brought in professionals to fix the majority of the mansion almost before everyone had returned. He'd paid the workers exorbitant amounts to rush, to erase the ugly reminders of the students' ordeal, and they did an excellent job.  
  
The wood paneling looked as ancient as ever, even the replacement panels; the intact artwork hung straight once again, while damaged artwork had been removed; the floors gleamed from a recent refinishing; and windows and doors were intact, erasing the tracks of American soldiers crashing through them.  
  
But it was the little things that got to Scott: the stray edge of a claw mark scored into a metal wall, doors that didn't quite hang right, and bullet holes in odd locations that reminded him of what had happened when he wasn't there to protect everyone.  
  
It was the end of the first full week back in session, and as Scott walked down the hall, he realized there was something not quite right. He stopped and listened, but didn't hear the usual Friday sounds of books being dumped, feet rushing to the pool table, and televisions blaring MTV.  
  
He strained. There were voices coming from...he turned in a circle before deciding the sounds came from the direction of the basketball court. Jogging down the hallway, he wondered if there was a fight that had attracted the students' attention--if that was the case, someone was going to have detention for a very long time.   
  
He pushed away fears that it could be something worse.  
  
Down a set of steps, around a corner, and the voices grew louder. Dodging the large ornamental vase, and through a set of wooden doors with brand new glass panels, stopping short at the edge of the basketball court.  
  
What looked like the entire student body was there. They were milling around, so it took Scott a few seconds to find the center--predictably occupied by Rogue, Bobby, Kitty, Peter, and Jubilee.  
  
Each held a piece of paper, much scribbled upon, and obviously important from the way they clutched them. Each was reading things off the paper and pointing to a different section of the blacktop. For the first time, Scott noticed piles arrayed on the ground: putty knives, spackle, wood stain, and much more. It looked like they'd mugged a Home Depot.  
  
He heard the door open behind him but he didn't turn, just stared at the students in front of him. One or two noticed him watching and waved cheerily, before resuming their frantic activity. The apparently aimless movement began to make sense.  
  
"What's going on, Scott?" Jean asked.  
  
Scott shook his head slowly in amazement, just as Rogue noticed the two teachers. She yelled something, but couldn't make herself heard over the crowd. Grabbing Remy's shoulder as he passed by, she handed her paper to him and came over.  
  
"Hi, Mr. Summers, Dr. Grey," she said, obviously trying to suppress a grin.  
  
"What's this?" Scott knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her response.  
  
"We're going to help finish the renovations. All the big stuff's done, but it's gonna take forever to patch everything else up, so we thought we'd pitch in, do what we could."  
  
Scott could feel Jean's mixed emotions running through their link: happiness, sadness, pride, worry. "You don't have to do this," Jean said. "The Professor will--"  
  
"Of course we have to do it." Rogue frowned. "This is our home and we want it back the way it was."  
  
Scott swallowed sharply. "It can never be exactly the same, you know."  
  
"I know. It'll be better." Rogue nodded firmly, and in that moment, Scott saw the last vestiges of the scared southern belle who'd joined the school replaced by a battleworn soldier who knew exactly where she stood. "So, we really need someone else who knows which end of the hammer to hold. Would you like to help? We divided up the responsibilities and pooled our money to buy the paintbrushes and stuff."  
  
"I'd be honored to help," Scott said, his throat tight. "Just tell me what to do."  
  
Rogue took his hand, her glove smooth in his grip, and led him to the assembled students. Behind him, he heard Jean explaining things to Ororo, Logan, and the Professor, who'd just arrived on the scene.   
  
As far as Scott was concerned, the explanation was simple: The real repairs had finally begun. 


End file.
